


100% Customer Satisfaction Guaranteed

by AlienAnimator



Category: Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends
Genre: Bigger On The Inside, Dick's Sporting Goods, Other, Portals, other dimensions, the eldritch sports dimension inside wilt's locker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 22:36:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlienAnimator/pseuds/AlienAnimator
Summary: Neb goes inside Wilt's locker.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> in case you want to know what neb looks like here's a drawing of them and wilt: https://imgur.com/a/nEN2AyG

Neb lay sideways on the bottom bunk that Wilt slept under, hanging their head upside down off one side and their legs off the other.

"Hey, Wilt?"

"Yeah, Neb?"

"I was just thinking, I've never actually seen what's inside that locker you've got in here. Whenever you take anything out of it I feel like it's got... an impossible amount of giant Converse sneakers for how big it looks from the outside."

Wilt scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly trying to find a way to explain the situation. "Well, uh, er... it's kind of... it's really messy in there. I bet you could get lost in it. Literally."

Neb shot up into a sitting position, their interest piqued. "Wait, you mean it's like World's toy box? It's bigger on the inside? Get outta town! I gotta see this!" The pale green Friend zipped over to the aforementioned locker, fiddling with the push mechanism to open the door.

"Wait, Neb, it's not really a good idea to... sorry, I just don't think..." Wilt, immediately regretting his previous words, attempted to convince Neb out of their already steadfast plan.

"Aw, you always worry about me, tall molasses. Don't worry, I'll be fine!" The Friend opened the door to the locker and quizzically peered at a jumbled pile of striped socks, black Chuck Taylors, and hanging jerseys that obscured the back of the metal box. (Since when did Wilt actually wear clothes, anyway?) Looking back at Wilt in confusion, they spoke as they reached an arm in between the articles of clothing.

"Hold on, I thought you said it was..." Their sentence trailed off as they moved their hand around, their mouth agape. They were able to fit their entire arm into a space that looked to be a little less than a foot deep, and they couldn't feel the back of it yet.

"I'll be back in a jiff, Wilt. I want to see how deep this goes," Neb said as they jostled several cans of spray deodorant aside to slide their entire body into the locker.

The taller Friend opened his mouth to speak, but Neb had already completely disappeared into the metal box. He sighed.

Pushing past what seemed like endless rows of jerseys with barely enough room for them to move forward, Neb let their vision adjust to the rapidly growing darkness. Pulling one of the shirts close to their face to squint at the design on its front, they realized that every single one of them bore the mark of the big blue number one that Wilt already had permanently on his chest. Forging their way deeper, they felt their mind getting cluttered and heavy as the floor began to tilt oh so subtly downward. The extremely narrow hallway became completely blanketed by shadow. Neb put out a hand to the wall to steady themselves. After one more step, the Friend's foot met with nothing but air and they found themselves falling, falling, falling, unable to keep their eyes open as their thoughts finally collapsed in on themselves.


	2. Chapter Two

Neb opened their eyes. Everything was still dark, but they felt grounded in a physical location with objects surrounding their body. After taking a moment to assess which way was up, the alien pulled themselves up to sitting, shaking their head to clear their senses and attempting to assess their surroundings.

They were sitting in a pile of basketballs.

Not only were they sitting in a pile of basketballs, they were in a very large room containing stacks upon stacks of pallets of unopened sports goods still in their packaging. It looked like the warehouse in the back of a big-box outlet store. Standing up and brushing themselves off, Neb spied a door near them labelled "Employee Entrance". Trying their best to be as quiet as they could, they pushed open the door... and were met with the sight of a very typical-looking Dick's Sporting Goods. Aside from the fact that it appeared to be completely deserted. Neb stepped through the threshold, looking at the signs above the aisles as they walked to try to find any sort of information desk or at least a checkout area.

"Now, let's see here. Don't the aisles usually end up perpendicular to the entrance? I'll just... go this way." Mumbling to themselves, they looked at the products on the shelves as they went on their way. They didn't recognize any of the brands, but they didn't in the normal world anyway (as much as they tried to humor their basketball-obsessed boyfriend) so that was probably irrelevant. Their assumption proved correct. Walking up to one of the abandoned checkout kiosks, they waited, leaning against the shelf of impulse-buy bait products, because they knew somehow that even in a realm as weird as this one the customer service was bound to be stellar. Neb was pulled out of their daydreams by a rustling coming from behind the employee station. Whipping their head around and peering over the conveyor belt, they were almost scared half to death by Wilt in a baseball cap and khakis popping up from under the desk holding a credit card reader. The word "Dick's" in "Dick's Sporting Goods" on his button-down shirt was crossed out to say "Wilt's". Wilt's Sporting Goods.

"Hello! Sorry, I'm a bit busy today, how can I help you?" Apparently completely oblivious to the utter ridiculousness of the situation, Wilt regarded Neb with a grin.

"Wilt! Oh, thank goodness you're here. I went all the way into your locker and you have so many jerseys in there and you don't even wear clothes and I passed out and I fell like a hundred feet and I woke up in a pile of basketballs and-"

"Whoah, slow down, kiddo. I'm really sorry for not getting all that, but what did you say?"

"I- forget it, do you know what's going on in the back room?"

"In the back? Sorry, but I'm not allowed to go in there, mind if I ask my boss?"

"... Wilt, you work here? How'd I not know about this before?"

"Oh, we all do!" Wilt pushed a mic button attached to his collar. "Customer query at lane 5."

Neb's confusion about what Wilt meant by his last statement was very quickly turned up to 11 when they heard the distinctive squeaking of basketball shoes coming down the aisle behind them. Turning around, they saw another Wilt, this one holding a walkie-talkie.

"Hey, Wilt, you called?"

"Oh, hey Wilt! Yeah, I'm really sorry to bother you because I know you're really busy, but this Friend here needs some merchandise from the back room."

"I- wh- Wilt?! There are TWO of you now?" Neb pinched the bridge of their nose.

The cashier Wilt clarified. "Actually, there are maybe 37 of us, 39 if you count delivery Wilt and remote worker IT department Wilt."

"Is there... anybody in this weird dimension who ISN'T Wilt? Maybe outside the store?"

"Outside the store?"

"Yeah, outside the... there's nothing outside the store, is there?"

"Nope! Sorry!" To demonstrate, Wilt stretched his arm over to the sliding doors at the "entrance". They slid open, revealing a blank black nothingness outside them.

"Great. So I'm stuck in a Di- in a _Wilt's_ Sporting Goods, the store is entirely staffed by different instances of Wilt, and I literally cannot leave."

The Wilt that apparently was the employer of the other Wilt spoke. "You're not the first person to get in here, I'm sure we can figure something out, if that's okay."


	3. Chapter Three

"So, er... where in this room did you come in? Sorry." The supervisor Wilt surveyed the warehouse, looking for anything that might signal a rift between realities.

"Right over here... I swear, it was right in this pile of basketballs." Neb, digging through the products to try to find anything out of the ordinary, came up with nothing. Huffing, they tossed one of the balls aside, their posture stiff with frustration.

"Oh, don't sweat it, I'm sure you'll find something, dear! Now, I could be wrong, but could you be looking in the wrong pile?"

"That's just it, I'm certain this is the right- wait, did you just call me 'dear'?"

Wilt grinned. "Of course, hun!"

"So, wait. Hold on a second. Does this mean that all of you have all the same memories as the original- sorry, the real- ugh, no-"

The comlink-toting Wilt nodded. "Wilt Prime, yes. We all share a memory bank, so I definitely know who you are."

Neb, their voice significantly peppier, grabbed Wilt's hand and pulled him down to playfully pinch his cheek. "If you knew, why didn't you tell me, ya silly beanpole?!"

Wilt shrugged, smiling. "I'm sorry, I had to maintain a professional attitude! You are still a customer, after all, and I've got to ensure customer satisfaction!"

Neb felt something click inside their brain. "Customer satisfaction?"

"Yes! Wilt's Sporting Goods has a 100% satisfaction policy, we'll make sure you won't leave without what you came for!" The tall Friend quickly realized the true meaning of his words. "Wait. That couldn't mean..."

A big, goofy grin spread across Neb's face from ear to ear. "So that means that once I find out what I need from this place, I can go back to the normal world!" Their face fell slightly as they realized the daunting nature of the task in front of them. "Hm. That might be a little more work than I thought. Self-help tapes, don't fail me now!"

Taking Neb by the hand and leading them out of the storeroom, Wilt began to think aloud. "So, if I recall things right, you came looking for answers about your, uh, partner. Who is me, but not really me, because I'm not the same one as- sorry, am I making sense?"

"Yeah, yeah, I gotcha."

"Okay. So, you wanted to know about this aspect of his life because you wanted to... be closer? Emotionally? To know more?"

"I wasn't really thinking that far into it when I hopped inside the locker, but yeah, sounds about right."

"So, in order to reverse the process and ensure..." Wilt took in a deep breath in preparation, striking a pose and pointing to the sky, " ** _COMPLETE CUSTOMER SATISFACTION!_** ... we need to simulate that closeness."

Upon hearing his statement, Neb promptly tackled Wilt to the ground in a bear hug. Wilt let out a noise somewhat akin to a battered squeaky toy being squeezed as he hit the floor.

"OOF, Neb, what are you- oh! That's a great idea, much better than mine!" He pressed the button on his walkie-talkie. "Aisle 6, gonna need backup."

"But I thought we were gonna cuddle?"

"Yeah. Cuddle backup."

Several other Wilts seemingly emerged from the shelves themselves, breaking off from the products like a cell splitting in two. Some wore khakis like the first one Neb had met, some carried disassembled cardboard boxes and packing tape, and still others held clipboards. One of them opened their mouth to speak. "Sorry to not be up to speed, but what-"

Detaching themselves from the first Wilt, Neb launched their body into the legs of several of the other employees. "CUDDLE PILE!"

After a few minutes spent happily in a pile of Wilts, Neb felt a familiar tug behind their eyes and their world beginning to spin around them. "Oh! I think I'm starting to rift back! Goodbye, Wilts! I'll never forget you!"

"No worries! Come back anytime!"

And once again, everything went black.

 

Neb's eyes shot open as they hit the floor of Wilt's bedroom, having been unceremoniously ejected from the locker as the door slammed shut behind them of its own accord. Wilt, who had been sitting on the bed reading some letters from Jordan, hopped up in alarm.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry, Neb, are you okay? Sorry, sorry!"

Groaning and rubbing their head, Neb sat up. "Yeah, I'm alright, Wilt! Don't worry!"

 

That evening at dinner, Neb casually asked Wilt how to get a job at Wilt's Sporting Goods.

 

He spit out his drink.


End file.
